Chapter The Next Number
Catherine
He walks ahead through the overturned trees, into the woods. We follow him blindly, not knowing where he plans on going and why he isn't dead yet.
As we walk, we realize that the rest of Aunt Eliza's visions came true: everywhere we look, dead bodies lay slayed, bleeding, one on top of the other; there is no difference between our people and their soldiers. The effects of an unnecessary war are overwhelming, and I can only hope the human race doesn't continue following this.
If you're wondering, most of us are dead as well. Max is still here, though, and me, saved by Ester's sacrifice. Sure, I was told that would happen, but imagining and happening are so very different, aren't they? They are.
As we walk further into the woods, now clearly heading for the stream, our night from three days back comes jumping into my head.
Peter on the rock, his eyes lost, hopeless; the silver pendant dangling soundlessly from his fingers; the cool breeze that hit us from further up the stream. Every moment of it was special, something I will always keep close to me, forever.
Peter means everything to me.
But Peter was supposed to die.
So, then who is this fair, bleeding boy limping towards the riverside?
I run ahead to catch up with him, linking our hands together. He holds on tightly. He is here; I can feel him in every touch, in every step, in every look that he gives me, thinking I don't feel his loving gaze. He is here.
But Peter is supposed to be dead.
Maybe the person responsible for his death was murdered during one of the battles? Maybe Peter got away somehow? Maybe, though this may be unlikely, the person decided not to kill him?
But how can you run away from destiny? How can you skip the future?
I have known Aunt Eliza for a long, long time- my entire life, actually- and her visions are never wrong. We reach the edge of the stream and Peter lets go of my hand. It feels cold without him- cold and empty
He walks towards Max who stands a little further away from us and hugs him, tight. Neither of them says a single word.
We won the battle but there's nothing to celebrate and no one left to do it with.
It's only when Peter pulls away from Max and I see that there's a streak of mud-filled tears dancing down his cheeks that it hits me. Death isn't always imposed by another, death comes in the form of a stronger substance, a stronger Man and the only one stronger than oneself, is that very person.
Peter is the only person strong enough to kill himself.
Oh shit.
"Whatever you're going to do, stop. Don't do it." I say to Peter sternly, putting my hands out to block him. He still walks ahead. My hands are now against his chest. He pushes further towards the stream. "Peter, you don't have to! You can stay, we can stay. The three of us, we'll go back. We'll be fine. It would be like this never happened!" A stone pulls down in my heart. I could never forget this.
Peter smiles and pulls my hands down; I have no energy left to hold them up anymore anyway.
"It's okay, Catherine."
"No. No, it's not!" Tears flow down my cheeks. "You can't go!" My voice wavers unpredictably.
Many people assume that war is most taxing on the physical state of the person, but that's not true, not for me, at least. The strongest part of your body is also your weakest; your mind can achieve incredible feats, like four powers, for instance, but what happens when something this strong gives up? What happens when the mind gives up?
This is what War does worst: killing people mentally to such an extent that-
"I'm not leaving you alone," his voice is strained, as if he's trying to hold back his feelings, his real thoughts, and I wish with all my heart that I could read what was going through his head right now, "Max will take care of you."
Take care of me? I snicker despite everything.
"I don't need someone to take care of me!" He is now only a few inches away from me now. I slam into him, my head resting on my fists, which lay closed on his chest, his arms by his sides, his head not resting on my shoulders, his body firm and rigid.
Love is a funny thing. We can say love is invisible but that's not true. I can see love when I look into his eyes and I feel love when I look into his. What does love look like? Its this beautiful soft thing, cuddly and pretty and perfect; it blinds you from danger but proves that there is safety.
"I need someone to love, and I love you and I need you and I want you- only, just you." I whisper to him through my tears.
And with that, he finally gives in. His arms envelope me, pulling me closer. His head falls on mine, kissing me preciously.
I keep the rest of my face pressed against him, not wanting to give it away.
"Catherine," he says to me, "you know I have to go."
I wail into him, clutching his shirt tightly in both my hands. I do know he has to go. But letting go of a blue-eyed boy isn't as easy as letting go a cheese burger.
He pulls something out of the pocket of his suit and fastens it around my neck. It feels cold as it touches my skin, my collarbone.
"Catherine, if I go, I can bring back Aunt Eliza." What? He continues, "I can bring back Lucas and William and Oliver and Harry- and maybe, just maybe Andrew too. I can bring back any five people that have died. A tetrakinita's voluntary death gives life, just not to him."
He waits.
"Let go, Cathy."
He doesn't want to go. No one that wants to go asks for permission to do so.
"Take me with you."
"No."
"Take me with you!"
"No, Cathy, you've got to stay here and find the new tetrakinita that Andrew and Eliza were speaking about. You have to find him."
"Or her..."
"Cathy, you know Oi Alloi." He sighs and then says, "or her. Whoever it is, man or human or vampire or unicorn- find them."
Find them.
"And will they help me find you?"
Find Peter.
He doesn't reply, but his head moves ever so slightly.
And so, I roll back onto my heels, letting him go.
Peter walks into the river silently, not a single drop of the water body spraying around. He puts his feet apart at shoulder length and brings his arms up, parallel to the stream.
And then he screams.
As he continues screaming, his eyes turn white- I can't see his pupils anymore- and sharp rays start to burn off his body.
I sense Max coming and standing behind me. He whispers slowly above my head.
"If Peter goes on like this, he would have used up all 100% of his brain. He would be too strong for nature to allow him to live- but he can bring back a balance." He steps away, watching uselessly.
Peter roars into the sky, almost as if he's begging them to take him, take him away from us, from me.
And they are listening.
He falls onto his knees, the water coming up to his waist, and cries. Around me, the trees suddenly grow back; the flowers suddenly start to bloom again.
"Peter..." I say softly.
As if he can hear me, or maybe because he wanted to, he turns to me one last time and points to his neck, and so I look down to my own to find a bird on a pendant.
His mouth turns upwards at the corners- the only recognizable part of his face now.
I smile back.
And then, a huge wave crashes open, engulfing Peter, killing him, taking him elsewhere- I don't know.
But he is gone.
I look down at the silver object around my neck; it is a bird, a silver falcon. Its beak points upwards, towards me, and its wings are outspread. I pull it closer up to me and kiss it gently.
"Peter..." I whisper into the now calm waves, the flattening ripples.
Max gently puts his arms around me from behind and begins- ever so carefully- dragging me away from the stream, neither one of us turning our backs even once, both our cheeks drenched with love and compassion and respect.
And hope.